Earth - About two years ago

Kane

I walked slowly along the street toward the house.

My mind was a whirl with the wonder of it all, the realities before my eyes superimposing themselves upon the memories I had held so dearly for such a very long time.

It was raining, a fine mist of rain, the type of rain that is light and inconsequential, and yet soon soaks you through.

And yet I welcomed that rain – it, too, was a powerful reminder of this place, the place where I was born – home.

As I passed the walled garden, I caught a glimpse of her through the open window, head turned away from me as she walked through to the kitchen.

I smiled to myself, and then stopped to look through the window, waiting for her to return.

A few minutes passed with no movement through the window, and then I caught sight of her putting on the kettle. I smiled again – mum only made tea herself if there was no one else there to do it for her.

I turned and strolled to the gates, the open gates on the drive, always open for as long as I could remember, and walked up the concrete path to the door.

As I reached forward to knock on the door, I filled with apprehension, and slowly lowered my hand.

I wanted so very much to see her, but would she know? Would she see that I was not the son that had visited her but a few short months ago?

He, the other me, was still here – he hadn’t been given the rod yet, and I worried that mum would see some difference in me.

But that was not the real cause for my anxiety. What if she spoke of my visit? What if my visit changed something?

Nothing was said to me of this visit back then, when I was the one about to be returned to Ellas.

But that didn't reassure me that what I was about to do would not somehow change what was to come, change what had already been.

And yet, how many times already on Ellas and on Earth, had my actions prompted this very same chain of thoughts.

I could not live my life in constant fear of the repercussions my actions might cause, I couldn't. And I could not, we could not, win this war without doing the things that we now must do.

I rapped on the door, and a moment later as the door swung open. I held my breath.

‘David? What are you doing here, and why are you knocking the door? This is your home… you never knock,’ my mother said, all in one breathless rush, the smile on her face at odds with slight apprehension in her eyes.

‘Is everything all right? Nothing's wrong is it?’ She asked, as she stepped forward and took me in a hug.

‘Everything is fine, Mum,’ I said, in a choked voice. Such a long time, such a very long time. Too long.

‘Come on inside. You don't sound as if nothing's wrong. Come on you can tell me all about it. I've just put the kettle on.’

I made the tea, same as always, and with my back to my mother as she jabbered away, I cried. Such a long time.

A few moments later, my mother said, ‘Well, come on. Tell me. Something is wrong. I know it is. You look as if you've seen a ghost.’

We'd retired to the living room, our cups on the coffee table that lay between us. I was sat on the settee, and mum in her chair. Nothing changes, she'll be off to bingo next. I laughed aloud at the thought.

‘What's suddenly so funny, David?’

‘Sorry, Mum. It's just that it's so good to see you. I've missed you so much...’

‘Missed me? You only phoned me two days ago… and you didn't sound as if you were missing me at all then’

My voice choked again, as I remembered that phone call from so very long ago, almost the last I'd made to her. I never had honoured the promise I'd made to her. I told her over the phone, coward that I was. And even then I'd only told her that I'd taken up the search for a way back.

Suddenly, my mother's eyes went wide and she put her hand to her mouth.

‘You haven't come to tell me that you going back, have you? It's too soon, David. Too soon to—’

‘No, mum. Don't worry not that.’ Just about the opposite really.

‘Then what is it? If it's not that, what prompted this sudden visit?’

I took a deep breath, and then slowly sighed it out. ‘It really is as I said, Mum. I've missed you... No wait! Don't say anything. Just let me finish.’

Mum clamped her mouth shut in mock annoyance and gestured for me to carry on. And as she did that, the strangest of thoughts came to me. She'd been calling me David. Naturally, she would. But even coming from my mother's lips, that name now sounded alien to me.

I had even bullied Alex into calling me Kane. That was who I was now.

‘Mum, why didn't you want to name me Kane? Dad said that...’ I trailed off as I saw the effect my question had on her.

Shock had show instantly on her face, her eyes had widened, and I could almost see the colour drain from her face.

‘Why... why do you ask that, David? How do you know about... that name?’ she asked, her voice quiet, almost a whisper.

She watched me intently as she waited for my answer, and yet her eyes would not meet mine. Her hands, too, were almost white where she clasped them together tightly in her lap. She was afraid – I didn't know why, but I knew that she was.

‘What's wrong, Mum? Why are you so upset? It's just a name... Dad told me about it years ago when I was still a boy. He said that you hated the name.

'And... and I just wondered why, that's all. If it upsets you so much, forget that I asked. It doesn't matter. It's not why I came here anyway. I don't even know why I asked… it was just an impulse.’

I knelt in front of her and took her shaking hands in mine. But before I could speak, she pulled one hand free and slowly, tentatively, reached forward and touched my face.

‘Shush, David... my Kane... my poor, poor Kane. Let me have this moment, please. Say nothing now...’ Tears ran freely down her face as she gently caressed my face.

Inside, my emotions were in turmoil. What new trick of fate was this? Kane! She called me Kane. What did my mother know of this? What could she possibly know?

A moment of agonising silence past, and then another.

Finally my mother's sighed, and her hands once more joined with mine. ‘Look at me, David... or perhaps it is now more fitting if I called you Kane… as your father would have once named you. As I would have if not for —’

‘You? You, wanted to name me Kane?’

‘Hush now, and I will explain. There's time enough for questions later.’ The strength was back in her voice now; she was my mother again, all signs of anxiety and fear gone.

‘All those years and I did not know that your father had told you... he never once mentioned it. He was a good man, your father... he never questioned my decision on this, never asked why. Never once.’

She paused, and almost as if she'd held up her silencing finger, I held my tongue and waited, our eyes now locked.

‘When you came to me and told me that awful story… when you said that name… that horrible name, Kanteth, I nearly told you then. But I was afraid to… and some small part of me thought that you somehow already knew. Why didn't you ask me then? Why have you come all this way to ask me now instead?’

The question caught me unawares. Why didn't I ask? It was such a very long time ago, but I didn't truly know the answer. ‘It didn't seem important then, Mum. And as I just said, I only asked now on impulse. I didn't come here to ask that… I just wanted to see you again.’ I almost choked on the last words.

‘Are you sure it was just impulse, David? Or was there something else. Have you... have you taken that name for yourself?’

Astonished as I was at her question, before I could answer she hurried on.

‘No need to answer. I can see it in your face, in your eyes. And somehow I just knew it was as she said it would be—’

‘She? Who, Mother? Who are you talking about?’

‘You're hurting my hand, David!’

Sheepishly, I loosen my grip on her hand. ‘Sorry. I didn't mean to—’

‘It's fine… no damage done.’

‘Who is she, mum? Tell me what's going on... please. You can call me whatever you like... David, Kane, it makes no difference... Just tell me.’

‘She was a gypsy woman, David, and it’s all about some silly fortune telling, that's all,’ she answered, her voice and her face showing that, to her at least, it was anything but silly.

‘Go on,’ I urged her.

‘It was a long time ago, David. I was a young girl of fourteen. Gypsies came around our village two or three times a year back then. They sharpen knives and mended pots and all that sort of thing... and sometimes they did readings, as they called it.

'I was making cake with my mother, your Nan, one day when one came to the door. She was a superstitious person, your Nan was... and she thought it bad lack to turn away a gypsy. So she gave the woman a few knives to sharpen and the promise of a few coppers as payment.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

'When the woman returned a little while later, we were sat at the kitchen table having a cup of tea. I remember my mother making a big fuss of the knives, because, not only were they well sharpened, but they shone like new; even the wooden handles had been polished somehow.

'As Mum was at the door paying, I caught the woman looking at me as I sipped my tea. I don't know why, but I felt embarrassed at that look. Embarrassed that I, that we, hadn't invited the woman in. And that's what I did... I stood and walked to the door. ‘Shouldn't we invite the lady in?’ I asked my mother as I looked up at the woman.

'You know, even today, I remember the smile that lit the woman's face... and how I felt so very good about what I had done. My mother was all a fluster, she didn't know what to do or say for a moment. The woman politely declined my offer, but I could see that she really wanted to accept. And so I reached past mum, took the woman's hand and led her to the table.

‘As the woman sat, mum busied herself getting out an extra cup and saucer and some biscuits. I remember that she glared at me from behind the woman at first, but as she sat down she patted my hand and smiled at me. The woman saw, and she smiled too.

'It's really strange, you know, I remember almost all of it… word for word what the woman said to me, and much of what she said to mum… I remember the look she gave from the door and the smile, and even her so very gentle voice. And yet I cannot remember her face. Not at all.’

Mum must have seen the look of impatience on my face, because she flushed slightly as she said, ‘Sorry, David. I ramble, I know I do. All elderly people do. You will too one day.’

I smiled. If only she knew I thought.

‘Anyway, my mother finished her tea and, as she always did, she up-ended her cup onto the saucer and gave it a few shakes. My mother read her tea leaves, you see. But I don't think that she meant to do it in front of the woman, it was an automatic thing on her part, because she looked a little embarrassed when she realised what she had done.

'The woman was smiling, I remember, as she asked if my mum would like a Reading. There would be no charge; it would be a thank you for the tea, she said.

'As I mentioned earlier, my mother was a very superstitious person, and she believed that to refuse a gypsy was to invite bad luck. So, the woman read my mother's tea leaves, and her palm. She said that mum would live to a ripe old age. Long enough, she said, to see her grandson grow into a fine the young man.

'My mother smiled at that, but for some reason it gave me the shivers. After all, she was talking about my child... my future child. Anyway, after the woman finished my mother’s reading, she smiled at me again and asked if I would like a reading, too.

‘I remember that I blushed furiously as I shook my head in refusal. But my mother would have none of it. She begged the woman's forgiveness at my refusal even as she thrust my cup towards her. But the woman ensured my mother that she was in no way offended, and also that she would not tell my fortune unless I truly wanted her to.

‘It was really strange then, because I sat upright in my chair and told the woman that I would be happy if she would do a reading for me. It was a complete reversal of how I felt, but that's what I did. Strange… so very strange. But yet again, I’m rambling. Sorry, David.

‘The woman peered into my leaf covered cup without actually saying anything for what seemed like an age, and then she asked for my hand. She looked at my palm, gently tracing her fingers along the various lines that they say dictate parts of your life… you know, your lifeline and so on.

'Finally, she spoke, and I can still hear her words today, ‘It is as I said to your mother. You will bear a son… only the one child, I’m afraid... no daughters for you. But do not worry on that, he will be a fine boy.’

'Her words were so very gentle then, so kind. But then something about her changed as she again examined my hand... I remember her grip on me tightening as she looked up to meet my eyes. ‘Young as you are, I see that you have a sweetheart… He is not the one for you.’

‘I nearly died at her words, and the look my mother gave me, but what she said next, stunned me. ‘No,’ she said, ‘this boy, Kane, is not for you. Another will come into your life, later, and you will know he is the one.’

‘That was the thing that got me... she knew the boy’s name, Kane. He was in school with me, and I I'd had a crush on him from the day I first met him. After that I was all ears.

‘You like the name Kane, do you not?’ she asked me, and when I nodded, her words became hard somehow… very serious. ‘You must not name your child Kane. That name would mar his life… It is a name that may one day be his… but that is something that must be of his choosing. Do not name your child Kane.’

‘And with that the woman stood, thanked my mother for the refreshments, and left without a backward glance.’

‘What, no explanation? Are you sure that she didn't say more? Did she give a name… anything?’

‘Nothing, David. What I said was word for word as I remember it. My mother was stunned at what the woman had said; she just sat there. And then after a moment, she took my hand and said, ‘Go after her. See if there is more that she can tell. Go on, quickly now!’ There was a sense of urgency in her voice, and it frightened me more than what the woman had said.

‘In the street there were a few gypsies moving from house to house, and an old man with a grinding wheel on a little trolley at one end, but there was no sign of the woman. She might have been in someone else's house, but I walked around for a good ten minutes looking and didn't see her at all. I was afraid to ask of her from one of the other gypsies because they were all so very different from us… their dress, they’re Romany accents, and the way they strutted so confidently through our streets. It was one thing being bold when my mother was there, but on my own… no, I was too afraid to ask.’

‘So you didn't find her, and you never saw her again? And what she said was the reason for not naming me Kane?’

‘No… I mean, well yes. In a way. It was my mother really, not me. I was young at the time, as I said. So after a few days, I forgot all about the gypsy woman and what she had said. Oh, I talked about it with my friends… laughed about it even – the silly gypsy woman. But after a while, it was old news, and I forgot all about it.

'Years later, I met your dad, and I fell head over heels in love with him. Kane, my childhood sweetheart, was long gone from my mind, so I never gave what the woman had said a single thought.

'Two years later, I fell pregnant with you. I was so proud telling my mother, and so it was an even greater shock when she reminded me of what the gypsy woman had foretold. She was adamant that I should not name you Kane. And the silly thing was, childhood sweetheart or not, I really liked that name… and I wanted that name for you.

'I argued with my mother for an age that day, and many more times in the days of my pregnancy. It was only when it was obvious that my mother was not going to let up in her nagging, demanding even, that I should listen to what the woman had said, that I finally began to relent. And so one day when my mother broke down in tears as she almost begged me to back down, I gave in and promised her that I would not name you Kane.

'Your father knew nothing of any of this, only that mum and I had finally gotten over whatever it was that we'd been quarrelling over. So it almost devastated me when he said one day that he would like to name you Kane. I almost broke my heart that night when I had to tell him no. I use the excuse that I hated the name… he thought my tears were because I was afraid that he force the issue.

'But he was a good man, your father, he didn't argue at all, he just held me until I stopped crying and then asked what I wanted to name you… and so we named you David. For a little while I thought of you as Kane, but not for long… and again, all thought of Kane left my mind.’

All the time that my mother had spoken I pondered the gypsy woman's words, ‘that name would mar his life… it is a name that may one day be his… but that is something that must be his choosing.’

And I had chosen. Twice I had proclaimed myself to be Kane… I was Kane. The other son, the other me that even now was walking the earth but a hundred or so miles away, was David still. This son, the one sat with my mother was Kane… the Kane she had wanted me to be.

I knew that my eyes were glassy and my voice hoarse, as I asked, ‘What does it all mean, Mum? I have taken the name Kane, and I did choose to do so. It was a very long time ago, and… and I have yet another incredible and unbelievable story to tell… if you will hear it?’ My voice was that of a little boy again, wanting the comfort, strength and wisdom of the mother who had always been there for him.

‘Let's have another cup of tea first, shall we? I think I'll give bingo a miss tonight. I'll ring Mable and tell her.’

‘You, miss bingo? I don't believe that for one minute, Mum. Nothing stops you going. Nothing!’

‘David… Kane, you have just closed the loop on a sixty year old mystery… one that almost tore my mother and I apart. Completing that foretelling does not explain it… but perhaps what you have to say will shed some light on what that bloody woman said.

'No, bingo can wait for another day. Off you go, make the tea, and then you can tell me why now… why you bring this Kane business up now, rather than when you last came down to visit. But make the tea first, there's a good boy.’

‘Where's the cheese, Mum?’ I shouted from the kitchen. ‘I thought I'd have a sandwich, if that's okay?’

I had fantasised over that cheese ever since I'd come back. Silly really with all that was going on, that I should crave a chunk of the Welsh cheese my mother always bought for me.

‘I wasn't expecting you… sorry. I only buy it for you, you know… when I know that your coming to visit.’

‘It's okay. I'll have to settle for that boringly mild cheddar you eat then. It's okay, honest.’ I was gutted.

‘If you stay the night, I'll get some first thing in the morning… you can have it on toast for breakfast.’

‘Nice one, Mum,’ I said, just as her phone rang in the corner of the room, right next to her chair.

‘Excuse me a minute, David… It’ll take me a while to get used to calling you Kane, you know? I'll have to answer this.’

I laughed to myself. Mum would stop to answer the phone if the house was falling down – she just loved to gossip.

As I poured the tea, I heard mum say, ‘Hello,’ then she fell silent as she listened to whoever was on the other end.

A long moment passed with my mother silently, listening.

Not like mum to stay quiet for so long, I thought as I walked into the lounge carrying the two cups of tea.

The look she gave me stopped me in my tracks, and then I heard the words she spoke into the telephone receiver; words that I had heard before, words that at the time has surprised me with their lack of compassion.

Still glaring at me, my mother said, ‘Yes, David, I’m sorry to hear that… but I can’t talk with you right now as I… I have a visitor. Call me back later,’ and with those few words she hung up the phone. She looked angry, and very, very confused.

I was at a loss for words; it was the strangest of feelings to know that here I stood and on the other end of that telephone was the person that I was, the person I used to be. So I sat on the settee, placed the two cups of tea on the table between us, and sat back and waited for what she would say.

‘Who are you? That was David on the phone. My David. So who are you? What's going on?’

‘I remember that phone call now—’

‘Remember? How can you remember it, you were here, and my son is miles away?’

‘I told you that I had left Maggie a few weeks ago, and that I’d been afraid to tell you. I said that it would never work between us now, and that I could not go back to being the David that Maggie wanted. That I was far too different now. I remember that I was shocked at your curt dismissal of my news… but now it all makes sense.’

‘To you may be, but not to me. Not at all. You being here now, the Kane thing, and now that phone call… it… it makes no sense.’

knelt before her and gently took her hands in mine. ‘Let me tell you a story, Mum. A story that is much more incredible than the one I told you those few weeks ago.’

‘What does that mean?’ She asked, her voice chocked. ‘And why are you really here today, whoever you really are?’

Her words were cutting, but I knew that deep down, she knew that I was her son, her David. Her Kane. ‘Here, Mum, drink your tea,’ I said, as I stood and passed her the cup. ‘I'll talk while you drink. You want a biscuit or something?’

‘No… no I don't want a biscuit! I want to know… oh, just get on with your story, will you, before I become a gibbering wreck.

Where to begin? I questioned myself. I hadn't really expected to have to do this today. I had come because I just had to see my mother again. No other reason than that.

To be given this second chance, to see her again was a miracle, something that I had never, ever, expected fate to throw my way.

‘To answer your first question, mum, I came because I wanted to see you again. Until I finish my story you won't understand how very much seeing you again means to me.’ I knew that tears filled my eyes and that my voice was echoing their sentiments.

Mum sipped her tea. ‘Right, definitely no bingo tonight then,’ she said, with a forced laugh. ‘Go on, get on with it.’

Where does one start with such a story? At least with the first tale all that been sequential, all apart from the ten years that I was away. Now I had to deal in centuries, time travel, and multiple existences of her own son.

‘You remember the promise you asked of me, Mum? That I should tell you when I was going to try go back. Well I didn't exactly honour that promise… the David you spoke to on the phone won't exactly honour it. I've been back… and my friends are alive and well. In fact they are here with me.’

‘Go on,’ was all she said, her voice quiet, but confusion still written plainly on her face.

And I did. And so my mother joined our so very small conspiracy.